


ghosts of the past

by AerisaHale (KarasuKyra)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F, Post-Allison's Death, Presumed Dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 16:12:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3453608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarasuKyra/pseuds/AerisaHale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia Martin is thirty-seven years old when she sees Allison Argent again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ghosts of the past

**Author's Note:**

> Written for femtropebingo's bingo card, space was presumed dead, for femslash February.

Lydia Martin is thirty-seven years old. Silver shines in her hair, and the lines of her face are deeper. That sharp look is still in her hazel eyes. She's sipping a coffee and reading something on her tablet, outside the small coffee shop on 6th and Rose.

The breeze shifts and the redhead looks up from her tablet, just in time to meet the dark eyes of someone her age, a feeling of deja vu passes over her, even though she's never seen this woman's face. It's only a fraction of a breath before Lydia understands what she's looking at.

She has never seen this face, but she did see it once, softened by youth. Now her features are matronly, belied by the stillness of her body, clearly in shape even under the jacket. Her face is older, marred by a scar and twisted in disbelief, but Lydia Martin would recognize that face anywhere.

The redhead's on her feet and is marching toward the woman, dressed in black, and still as the mountains. Lydia wasn't sure what her intention was, to kiss her, kick her, or something else. She settles with wrapping a hand around the brunette's pale throat and slams her into the building behind her.

“And just what the fuck are _you_?” she hisses, her manicured nails digging in.

“It's me! It's me! It's really me!” a voice rasps, a voice she remembers, deeper with age.

She relinquishes her hold and lets the brunette rub her throat. She stares angrily, tears running down her face and whispers, “I _felt_ you die.”

“I did die,” Allison states quietly, pursing her lips and not making eye contact.

When Allison finally meets her eyes, Lydia sees the same girl she knew once. She sees the eyes of someone who's older than their years, and still that seventeen year old girl. She opens her arms and lets and waits patiently for the dark-haired woman to make a decision.

Allison falls into Lydia's arms and the redhead murmurs into her dark hair. With her arms locked around Allison Argent, the ghost that had chased her dreams for years, she thought that, perhaps, she could find happiness again.


End file.
